


Drink More Water

by AngelCuttingOnions



Series: Trans Avengers Club. (We only have two members but we’re badass so fuck off) [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Dysphoria, Gen, Must Protect Spider-Child, Trans Clint Barton, Trans Peter Parker, Unintentional Self Harm, binders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19111462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelCuttingOnions/pseuds/AngelCuttingOnions
Summary: Sometimes, when your mind is working against your body you hurt yourself. Sometimes, someone is there to help. Sometimes they make you drink water.





	Drink More Water

**Author's Note:**

> Y’all I’m not sure what’s up with my writing today but apparently I’m fuckin butter because I’m on a roll. Trigger warnings: Dysphoria and wearing a binder for too long.

Dysphoria is a bitch. A stupid little bitch who can fucking die thanks. Peter was back in his blanket fort of self loathing and hatred, wondering why exactly the universe despised him. He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been in there, but it was long enough that his stomach was growling, his hair was gross and sweaty, and fuck his ribs ached. He didn’t plan on leaving though. He had nowhere to be, and he didn’t want to move because if he moved, he’d remember that he wasn’t- So yeah. He didn’t plan on leaving. 

He eventually fell asleep. 

***

When Peter woke up he felt slightly better, mentally at least. He moved to pull his phone from his pocket to see what time it was, wincing as he shifted. It was noon. He had been wearing his binder since seven the previous day. Fuck fuck fuck. He whimpered a bit when he pushed himself out of bed and struggled out of his binder. It hurt to breathe. He showered quickly, then stumbled to his dresser to find something loose to wear. He wouldn’t be able to bind until he was healed. He’d fucked up. 

He threw on a baggy T-shirt, some boxers and a loose pair of sweatpants, ignoring shoes and socks. He didn’t bother with a sports bra, he was in too much pain. His stomach rumbled loudly and he realized he needed to eat something. He hunched in on himself as he left his room, silently hoping no one was in the kitchen. His hopes were pointless apparently, but he needed to eat. He shuffled into the kitchen, ignoring the greetings from Clint and Sam, going straight to the fridge where he grabbed a carton of cottage cheese, and then to the drawer where they kept silverware to grab a spoon. 

“You okay kid?” Sam sounded concerned. Peter hummed a non-answer in response, plopping into a stool at the breakfast bar. Sam now looked as concerned as he sounded. He got the boy a glass of water.

***

Peter kept cracking his neck and back, grimacing whenever he did. Whenever he moved to quickly, he hissed. His breathing didn’t sound quite right either. Clint noted the kid didn’t seem to be wearing his binder that morning either, and he _always_ wore his binder when he left his room. Clint came to a conclusion. He wanted to bring it up but he wouldn’t as long as Sam was in the room, as soon as he got the kid alone he’d ask. 

He came up with some bullshit excuse about needing to talk to him, making Sam roll his eyes and drop a comment about them and their damn pranks. He pulled the boy into his section of the compound, nudging him over gently to the couch in his room. He grabbed a throw blanket and tossed it to the kid, who nodded in thanks, and pulled it around his shoulders. 

“How long was it on?” 

“Almost thirty hours.” Peter was so quiet Clint could barely hear him. 

“Have you checked your ribs yet?”

“...no?” Clint rolled his eyes at the boy, then moved to sit on the back of the chair across from him. 

“Does it hurt when you breathe in?”

“A little.” 

“On a scale of one to ten?” 

“Six maybe.” 

“Maybe?”

Peter sighed. “Seven.” 

“You haven’t left your room so you haven’t eaten. Will your advanced healing kick in any time soon?” 

“It’ll be slower because of that, but I’ll be fine.” 

“Can I feel your ribs? I just want to make sure nothing is broken or life threatening. If not, we can go to your regular doctor.” 

“You can.” 

“Alright kid, lift your shirt a little bit.” He complied, lifting it just enough for Clint to see his rib cage. Both men cringed when they saw the imprints left on his skin from his binder. “Inhale... exhale... okie dokie I’m gonna poke your ribs and shit now if you’re good with that.” Peter nodded and Clint pressed gently around his rib cage. 

“Alrighty kid, drop your shirt. Nothing seems to be broken, but you’ll probably be in pain for a little while, at least until your healing kicks in. I assume you know the drill. No binding until the pain is gone. If you need oversized hoodies, I will steal some from a super soldier for you, or you can borrow one of mine. And drink some water, Jesus Christ. Make sure no one hugs you too tight and that means no going around Thor if the space bitches decide to visit. Now pardon me, I need to find a certain genius.” 

“You’re not gonna tell Tony I wore it too long are you?” 

Clint just looked at the kid, making him pout. “Your puppy dog eyes don’t work on me, I grew up as an orphan in a circus, I basically invented the puppy eyes.”

*** 

“Tony! Important request!”

“Busy.”

“It’s about the general health and safety of a certain spider child?”

Tony looked up from whatever holograms were floating around his workshop at the compound. He was only there for another hour, and then he planned to head home to spend the evening with his two favorite girls. “What did the kid do now?”

“Wore a binder for thirty hours and hurt himself.” 

*** 

“It loosens after ten hours, and you can adjust it to give you more breathing space, especially for when you’re in the suit. Plus it’s made from a slightly more breathable material. Drink water.” Tony dropped the new binder on Peter’s head, threw the kid’s reusable water bottle at him, and walked out of his room.

**Author's Note:**

> Drink water.


End file.
